


Keep Me Warm

by Narcissistic_Ninny



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissistic_Ninny/pseuds/Narcissistic_Ninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surprisingly, Derek is there for Stiles when he needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The anniversary of her death was getting close. Every year he bought her flowers, a big boutique of them for when he went to see her. Pink tulips were her favourite. When she had been alive the dining room table always had a centrepiece of flowers, she loved flowers so getting some for her was a must.

His dad knew about the flowers. The year before he actually left a twenty on the kitchen table for him. There wasn't a note but he knew his dad left it there for him so he could buy the tulips. His dad knew him pretty well even if Stiles tried to think convince his dad otherwise.

Usually the house got really quiet around this time. The silence was what killed Stiles the most. It must hurt his dad more even if he seldom talked about it. Usually his dad resigned to drinking a bit more than usual and talked even less. Stiles had yet to get used to it.

Things were defiantly different when she was still alive. It was hard, living without her. His panic attacks and shortness of breath were gone but he still remembered those times clearly, more clearly than he cared to.

In a few days it would be the anniversary of her death and he would visit her grave and…

And miss her terribly.

[]

After school he drove in his Jeep out to the cemetery. Scott usually gave him space. The first year had been the hardest and Scott had tired taking him out to get his mind off it. After a few hints and very obvious nudges –since Scott really needed it sometimes – Scott learned to just leave him alone because Stiles preferred it that way.

Lying the flowers down in front of the nice tomb, her name craved in, beloved mother written underneath, he started talking to her. He never got more than a few sentences out before he started to cry.

Stiles was telling her how much he missed her, wishing so badly that she had never passed. His dad was great, the best dad in the world even, but it wasn't the same at home without her.

He wiped at the tears, sniffing and trying to get a grip. It had been a couple of years, but why did he feel so lonely? He sat down on the grass, playing with the silky flower petals and filling her on what was going on with his life since the last time he visited her.

Looking around to make sure the place was empty he whispered to her about what had happened to Scott. He explained how much of a dumbass he was because he went to a party during a full moon and Derek pretty much saved Alison form being mauled to death or something.

He started talking about Derek, about the first time he saw the forest hand how his jaw had dropped, then about how Derek sort of scared him. He decided not to tell her about the time Derek threatened to rip out his throat with his teeth. No need in worrying her in the afterlife too.

For some reason he kept talking about Derek. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he was the only thing he could fill her in on. That, and if he kept talking about how much he missed her he would cry again.

"He doesn't talk much. He's such a sour wolf," he sighed. "But he does look good in a black t-shirt."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone clear his throat behind him. Turning around, to his horror, he saw it was none other than Derek. And he had thought he had been alone. How long had he been standing there?

"Bad time?" Derek asked.

No shit it was a bad time. He had just walked in when he had been talking about how muscular Derek was and how good he looked in a black shirt. Shit that was bad. He wondered if he heard? Maybe he was distracted, thinking about whatever it was Derek thought about. Wolf things. Squeaky chew toys.

Stile looked away. "What do you want?"

"I was hoping you knew where Scott was," he said.

Stiles shrugged, still not able to look him in the eye. "Off somewhere with Alison I guess."

Derek didn't leave like he thought he would. He felt him standing behind him. He didn't have to check; he could feel him, hear him breathing behind him. It was making him uncomfortable. That, and this was his time to be alone.

"What do you want?" he asked, somewhat bitterly.

Not all his anger was towards him. Only some of it was. He hated Derek sometimes, the creepy way he was, not to mention to the hostility. As much as he was scared of the guy, he didn't hate him all that much really. Even if he didn't like it when Scott talked about him.

He still felt him standing behind him. He turned around, really to tell him to leave him alone when he saw Derek's downcast face, his eyes staring at the tombstone. His eyes were focused on his mother's name. For some reason that pissed off Stiles, like he was the only one who could look at it that way. Before he could tell Derek to go away, his hostility be damned, Derek cut him off.

"I lost my mother too," Derek said.

His voice was calm, almost too even. Stiles didn't know if that was his lame attempt to try to get along with him, or maybe he said it out of pity, he wasn't sure. Stiles wanted to say he didn't care - not that he didn't - he just wanted to be alone.

He sighed. He knew what it felt like, so he couldn't say that. Derek had lost his family; he knew that much about him so he remained silent. They were both silent because they both knew saying they were sorry meant nothing.

Stiles lost track of time, of how long they both were quiet. When Stiles did look at Derek, he saw that he had a far off look in his eyes, just void of anything and it scared Stiles even more than when Derek threatened him. Then it occurred to Stiles that Derek didn't have a grave to visit.

His mouth opened and closed, trying to think of something to say to him. He didn't know why he all of a sudden wanted to console Derek, when it was him that needed it. All he thought about was saying something to Derek and for the first time he didn't know  _what_  to say.

Derek shut him up even before he opened his mouth. "Go home," he said, starting to walk away from him. "The moon's out," he said over his shoulder.

Stiles looked up, and sure enough, the moon was out. He sighed, looking back down to see that Derek was already gone from sight. Where the heck had he gone? Deciding he didn't care that much, he looked down at the flowers he bought, saying goodbye to his mother before he left.

[]

The next day he decided it was best to stay away from the cemetery. He could only handle so many tears, and he wasn't ready to give himself such a heartache again. That night he decided he would prefer to sneak out and drink himself silly until he didn't feel a thing.

He tried calling Scott so he could go out drinking with him but he was no where to be found. Especially since he started dating Allison. He didn't mind; if he stole his dad's Jack Daniels and drank in the park all by himself that was fine too.

Ok, that wasn't entirely true. He was feeling so bad for himself he even called Danny to come hang out with him. Of course he said no, claiming he had better things to do. What did a high school kid have to do that was so important he would skip out on drinking?

Speaking of Danny, he never answered if he thought he was attractive to gay guys. He was curious after all. He seriously wondered if gay guys did find him attractive. He understood he never stood a chance in hell with Lydia. She was close to perfect looking; of course she didn't like him.

But why didn't Danny dig him? He was fit. Not in shape like Jackson or Scott, but he was ok. Ok he was hyperactive and he talked too much, but his face was ok, right? He didn't consider himself sexy but he didn't consider himself ugly, or unattractive beyond repair.

Maybe there was something he could fix, someone had mentioned he should grow his hair out. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he would look better. Maybe he would have that perfect Hollywood hair that blew in the wind and stuff. That sounded pretty cool. He could even style it like Jackson did or Derek-

He screamed in a very lady like manner when he saw Derek looming over him. "Holy shit!" he yelled, sitting up despite the headache he was starting to get. "Make some noise will you?"

Derek continued to frown. It was like he had a policy against looking happy. "What are you doing out here?"

"Getting drunk," Stiles grinned, a little crookedly. "What's it look like?"

"How will you get home?" Derek asked, his scowl getting more intense. "You can't drive."

"I walked."

Derek didn't say anything on the matter. "You shouldn't be out by yourself. Scott told me what happened the last time you two were out drinking."

"That only happened because he doesn't listen to me," Stiles said offhandedly. He looked up, meeting Derek's gaze. "He never does. No one ever does. Even Danny, and his opinion isn't important. Danny never answers my questions either, like today I asked him if he thought I was attractive. Hey, do you think I'm good looking?"

Derek looked surprised by the question, his usually stern expression turning into shock and it was kind of cute seeing him get flustered by the question. "What?" he almost roared.

"Come on, Danny wouldn't answer me. I mean, how bad looking can I be; right? I mean; would you date me?"

Derek frowned. "You're not my type."

"How? You don't like my personality? Because I can change that. Or is it my face? Damn it I can't change that," he said sadly.

"Let's get you home Stiles," he said, bending down to grab his arm.

"No! Not until you answer my question!" he said, trying to wiggle out of Derek's hold.

It proved futile because Derek did end up letting go of his arm, only to grab the back of his collar and drag him out of the park and towards his car. Stiles tried to free himself, kicking the air but Derek was too damn strong and he was pretty drunk so he just allowed Derek to drag him inside his car, more like threw him inside his car.

"Hey, how'd you find me? Did you find me? I mean were you looking for me?" Stiles asked when Derek started the car.

"Shut up Stiles."

"Sour wolf," he frowned. "Hey! We should drink together one day. How's that sound? I'm sure it'll get you to be less grumpy."

"Shut up."

"Do you even drink? Or are you like afraid of getting a beer belly or something?" he asked, looking at Derek, and even though he was wearing a leather jacket anybody could tell his arms were impressive. "You look fit. How often do you work out?"

"Shut up Stiles," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, possibly to stop himself from killing him.

"You know, I don't remember why I was scared of you. You're not that scary."

Derek threw him a death glare that made Stiles gulp. "Oh, now I remember."

There was silence as Derek drove the car, and not steadily for him. It wasn't like he was considerate of Stiles' drunken state or anything. Stile leaned his head back and closed his eyes - not wanting to get dizzy - and passed out.

[]

When the sunlight poked through his curtains and touched his face, screaming at him to wake up, he realized he was in his bed. He figured Derek must have carried him up. That or some aliens took him in their spaceship for probing then transported him back to his room. The aliens seemed like a plausible idea. It sure explained his massive headache. He figured probing must give you headaches.

Sitting up in bed he decided that Derek was a more plausible reason as to why he was in his room. He was thoughtful when he wanted to be it seemed. After all, Derek did leave him in his bed. Fully dressed but still, he didn't expect him to take off his shoes or anything.

He rubbed at his temples. Shit, had he asked Derek if he found him attractive?

[]

He didn't know why but Derek actually stopped by two days later. He came home from school - after stopping by the cemetery. There was a new bouquet of sunflowers. It was from his dad, he knew - and found him in his room, just like that time when he had been running from the law. Only this time he had no excuse for hiding in his house.

"Shit! What are you doing here?" he asked, very panicked. Maybe it was because Derek had threatened him so many times before. Something about his teeth. Holy shit was he his next meal or something?

"I wanted to see if you were ok," Derek explained calmly. Only it didn't calm Stiles down.

"Not at the moment. You almost gave me a heart attack!" He gripped at his chest for extra measure.

Derek didn't seem bothered. "I meant about your mother. You were really drunk a few days ago."

Stiles frowned, sitting down on his desk chair. "Didn't know you cared," he said, "at all really. You're usually too busy brooding or whatever." Derek looked at him. His head was titled and that angry scowl on his face seemed to intensify. Then it hit Stiles. "Do you care? I mean, really?" he asked.

He just couldn't believe that Derek would really care. Sure he saved him and Scott a few times, but Stiles had saved him as well. It wasn't because he liked the guy. It was mostly because that's just decent. You don't let people die.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "You think I'm that heartless?" If Stiles didn't know any better, he almost sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. He rubbed at his temples. "It's just, you haven't given me a reason to think otherwise," he looked at him. "Every time you see me you tell me to shut up or threaten to rip me apart."

Derek's eyes softened a bit, though he was still angry. "I suppose you're right."

Stiles ran a hand through his cropped hair, feeling the tiny bristles. He looked at his desk, away from Derek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mea-"

He turned around in his chair, about to give Derek a heart felt apology, except he was gone. He looked at his window, which was now open.

"What is he? The goddamn batman?" he asked the empty room.

[]

On the weekend him and his father went to the cemetery together to pay their respects. His father was mostly quiet and Stiles hated it. He didn't do well with silences. They stood over her grave and talked about the time when Stiles got sick and his mother actually knitted him a scarf to keep warm.

They laughed about how she forced him to wear it when he went back to school even if it was during the spring. His dad actually told a funny story about their second date where he accidently spilled cola on her dress.

He hadn't laughed that hard in a long time.

[]

He had been sitting on the roof, looking at the stars and having a stolen drink for relaxation time. Well, it was mostly to avoid studying. It was a quiet night, plenty of stars out and he was enjoying himself until Derek showed up to give him another heart check up.

"Ok, seriously, this isn't some sort of weird stalker Edward Cullen thing is it?' he asked. "Oh God, you don't watch me sleep do you?" Derek threw him a look. He wasn't sure if he was angry for asking a stupid question or upset because Stiles found out. He hoped he was angry over a stupid question.

"I don't watch you sleep Stiles," he explained. "I have better things to do with my time."

Stiles smirked. "Sure. I'm sure working out and making sure Scott doesn't kill himself takes up all your time."

Derek actually smirked at that. Whoa, he didn't think the guy knew how to smile. He decided he sort of liked that look on him. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said before. I was just upset about my mom, you know?"

"I understand," Derek said.

He smiled at Derek, holding it even as they sat in silence, watching the starry night. He offered a beer bottle to Derek, who actually did take it. He drank it much faster than Stiles could, but Derek did look like he could drink. Derek wasn't talking and silence and Stiles never went well so he began the conversation.

"You know, sometimes my mom would come and sit out with me on the roof, just like this. We would watch the stars, waiting for my dad to come home from a late night shift," he looked over at Derek, who was listening intently, watching him.

He smiled before looking down at the drink in his hand. He smiled down at it, holding it tightly before taking another drink. The familiar burn made its way to his chest, firing his heart. It ached and he spent the rest of the night talking about his mother. Derek listened, never talking and nodding here and there. Stiles didn't expect him to. The entire time he had known him, Derek never muttered than three sentences.

Stiles laughed to himself. "You know, whenever I snuck out at night and my dad found out, my mom would stick up for me," he smiled softly. "She understood me. She didn't care that I was out at night," he sighed. "My dad doesn't get that. He's great and all, but he prefers I stay at home and do homework."

Derek grinned. If Stiles hadn't been staring so intently at his face he probably wouldn't even have noticed. It was the slightest of smirks. Stiles stared until Derek turned to face him. "My mother used to stick up for me too. My sister and I would sneak out and try to see if we could wander around the town at night as wolves and not get noticed. My dad caught us once and there was hell to pay," he stared right into Stiles' eyes. "She convinced him not to be so hard on us."

Stiles stared at him for a long time. His mouth opened and closed. He cleared his throat. "That' the most I've heard you talk," he paused, "ever."

Derek's face remained passive before he shrugged and went back to looking at the streets. A smile formed on Stiles' face and he scooted closer to him, bumping shoulders with him. Getting no response he went back to rambling about anything that popped up in his mind.

Stile was drunk soon and Derek lifted him, carrying him as if he weighed like a child and got off the roof to take him inside. Only, this time he stayed awake when Derek carried him to his room. Derek took the time to take off his shoes this time. When he was done he stood over Stiles a bit before making to leave. Stiles was able to grab his wrist before he could escape. Derek stilled in the night, turning to look at Stiles over his shoulder.

"Stay," he said softly.

Derek looked alarmed. His body tensed under Stiles' warm hand on his wrist.

"Stay," he repeated, tightening his hold on Derek, certainly not enough to hurt him – not that he could – but strong enough to keep him in place. "Please."

Derek tried tugging away but Stiles wouldn't let him. Finally, sighing heavily, he sat down beside him. He looked out Stiles' window, refusing to face Stiles, having his back to him. Stiles' fingers rubbed small circles on Derek's skin.

"Lay next to me."

Derek turned to frown at him over his shoulder. "Why?"

Stiles gave him his best puppy eyes. "Please?"

Derek eventually did lay down, facing him. Stiles rolled closer to him. He stared at his face. "I'm sorry for thinking you were a monster," he murmured. "You're actually a lot nicer than you lead on."

Derek made a sound in the back of his throat that came close to a snort.

Stiles took a deep breath and dared to reach over, touching Derek's arm, stroking the strong bicep. "Thanks for being there for me when I needed someone the most." In truth, besides his dad, he was the only one who didn't try to make him talk about it or talk about his feelings. As strange as it sounded, it was for that reason that he felt more comfortable telling Derek things.

"My mom would run her fingers through my hair when I was kid until I feel asleep. She was a saint of a woman because I don't fall asleep easy." Derek stayed silent. Stiles continued stroking his arm before finally slinging his arm over his waist, which was what the wanted to do all along so he could shift closer and nestle into his chest. Derek actually touched his face, his finger touching his cheek ever so gently.

But this was Derek. He was a werewolf. He was ruthless. He was vicious and uncaring. He was a fighter. He was the brooding type. He disappeared out of nowhere like Batman. His hand said otherwise. Derek continued caressing his cheek, like if Stiles was something special, or something that could easily break. Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying being touched by Derek.  _Derek!_  What was the world coming to?

Derek pulled him closer, his hands moving to run up his sides. He nestled his face into Stiles' temple and breathed in his scent. They were quiet, gentle touches on each other, their clothes annoyingly in the way. Even so, he could feel the heat radiating from Derek's body.

"I wish my mom was still around," he said softly. "I think she would have liked you. She always saw right through people."

Derek rubbed his arm and his lower back, not saying anything. He nestled into his temple in a very doglike way. "Yeah, she would have liked you." He felt himself blushing. "She probably would have seen past your tough guy, sour wolf exterior."

Derek brought Stiles' head closer to his chest. "Go to sleep Stiles."

Stiles nodded sleepily, hugging Derek tightly because he needed to hold onto something.

[]

He woke to the sound of his dad banging on the door. It scared the shit out of him and at this rate either his dad or Derek were really going to give him a heart attack. "Are you up yet?" his dad asked through the door.

Stiles blinked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the light and to be woken up so rudely. He was surprised to find Derek still there. From the way he was blinking his eyes he had just been woken up as well. The knocking continued and Derek's face went from barely awake to annoyed in seconds.

"I'm up! I'm up," Stiles called over his shoulder.

The doorknob was being turned and Stiles and Derek stared at each other wide eyed. Thankfully Derek rolled off the mattress and under the bed before his dad saw anything. "I've been calling you down for breakfast. What's the matter with you?' his dad asked. He stared at Stiles for a brief moment. "Did you sleep in your clothes?"

"What? Why would you ask what's the matter with me?" he asked, trying not to act weirder than usual. He looked down. "I did actually, sleep in my clothes. I do it a lot actually. It's not that weird."

His dad gave him one of those looks. Those looks that suggested he seriously considering getting him tested. "Ok," he said slowly as if he was mentally incompetent. "Well, breakfast is ready," he said, moving to the door. "Brush your teeth first."

Stiles sighed when he closed the door. He rolled over so he could peek under the bed, finding Derek still hiding there. "Sorry about that," he said.

Derek grunted, moving so he wasn't under the bed. He adjusted his shirt and moved to the window, about to leave.

"Derek," Stiles said, catching himself to late.

Derek turned around. Stiles actually didn't know what he wanted to say. Calling his name was an accident. Now his cheeks were flushed and he knew his mouth was hanging open, much like the first time he saw Derek in the woods.

"Umm," he said. "Can I see you tonight?"

Derek's eyes softened again, only the slightest. He nodded and left.

This time Stiles watched him jump out his window and land gracefully, heading off with a quickly fastening run. At least know he knew he didn't vaporize into thin air and materialize somewhere else. Not that he ever considered that was what really happened.

[]

Derek did show up. And he did for the next couple of days. He would sneak into his room, through his window- because apparently there was something evil about his door, or that's what Stiles thought to himself – and would crawl in bed with Stiles who wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close and clutched at his shirt as Derek nuzzled into him.

[]

Days later he went to see his mother again. Stiles felt he needed to fill her in on what had been going on in the past few days because he felt he couldn't tell his dad. Well, he could, he just didn't want to have his dad give him 'the talk.'

Stiles told her about Derek, about how they had been sharing his bed. He told her Derek's mother died too. He looked down at his feet. He told her he missed her and wanted her to meet Derek because he was nicer than he lead on. He sighed because he sounded stupid. It almost sounded like he had feelings for Derek. The way he was talking about the guy, it was embarrassing.

He paused, feeling his mouth go dry. Realization hit him hard and he looked at the ground, the craving of his mother's name as if she would tell him something. Finally, he decided to go him and sleep. Derek was probably waiting or something. That or trying on one of his shirts because he 'hated shopping.'

[]

Stile was running his fingers through Derek's thick black hair, tangling his fingers in those locks. Derek was staring into his eyes, those intense blue eyes looking at him from under thick lashes. Derek finally closed his eyes, turning into the pillow a tad but with his face still visible to Stiles.

They had woken up before Stiles' dad could wake them. It was better to blink his eyes open and see Derek sleeping next to him, their limbs tangled together in a mess. Had it been someone else, Stiles would have found it stifling, maybe clingy, but having Derek hold him didn't make him feel that at all.

Derek opened his eyes, looking at him. Stiles hand moved from around his shoulder to his jaw, his fingertips touching his cheek softly. Derek had been coming round to sleep at his house. Sometimes he even did his laundry there too, or ate meals there. Stiles suspected he might not like living alone in that big house in the middle of the woods as much as Stiles would have thought.

He had gotten to know more about Derek than he ever thought but he didn't mind. Part of it was because Derek was so much different than his first impression of him. Derek was more of a softie at heart, and in some ways Derek cared for him in more ways than his friends at school did. As much as their, relationship, whatever it was, was growing, it still wasn't fast enough for Stiles.

"You haven't kissed me yet," Stiles said.

"You want me to kiss you?" Derek asked, raising a thick bushy eyebrow.

"I've been letting you sleep with me for about a week now. If you don't kiss me soon I'll think you have less game than I do," Stiles teased.

Derek growled once more before rolling so he was on top of him and leaned down and kissing him deeply. Stiles' hands went around his shoulders, holding him, pressing him closer so their chests were touching. Their heartbeats stirred against one another, beating through the fabric of their t-shirts. Derek's body completely covered his, and although he was a lot heavier than Stiles, he didn't care, pulling him in deepen the kiss.

His hand moved up from his shoulders to the back of his neck, his fingers touching his soft black hair. One of Derek's hands slipped under his t-shirt, exploring the skin of his torso. When they reached to pinch a nipple Stiles groaned, gripping Derek's hair tight. If he weren't super strong with a bit of animal thrown in he was sure he would have hurt him. Derek didn't seem to notice the way he gripped his hair.

Stiles was about to tell Derek, demand of him that he take his clothes off but there was a knock on his door. "Stiles! You're going to be late for school." By now Derek was a master of rolling under the bed on time before his dad walked in. "Are you sneaking out at night? I keep finding you in your clothes, and you've been sleeping in. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing dad. And I promise I'm not sneaking out." He was telling the truth. Although he didn't want to explain that someone was sneaking _in_. And quite frankly he was sick and tired of his old man cock blocking him every morning.

His dad seemed displeased. "If something's been going on, I'll find out."

"Yes, I know. The great detective you are, you probably will," he grumbled.

He wondered if his dad would ever find him and Derek. Maybe he should come out with it.

'Hey dad I'm sleeping with Derek Hale. You know the guy who was accused of killing his sister. Yeah, him. Don't worry he's nice. He's also a werewolf. Don't worry; he won't kill me. Yeah he threatened me a few times but that's only because I can't keep my mouth shut.'

Yeah, for now he would keep his mouth shut. His dad sighed once before leaving him, shutting the door after himself. When Stiles turned around and checked under the bed Derek was gone. He seriously needed to make more noise.

[]

He had lacrosse practice that day. Jackson spent the entire time trying to kick him –maybe even kill him- and make it look like an accident. It wasn't so bad, Scott was able to push him to the floor and dislocate his shoulder. Stiles would have laughed but that would have made him look maniacal. Maybe he was spending too much time with Derek.

He walked to his jeep after practice and nearly shit his pants when he saw Derek standing there.

"There's going to be a full moon tonight. Tell Scott not to go to a party this time," he said, furrowing his brows. Stiles didn't blame him. Scott going to a party on the first moon was about the dumbest thing he had done all year - or maybe that month.

"Don't worry, he's planning on staying inside this time," he assured him.

"Good," he said. He stood there for a moment, almost considering leaving but Stiles stopped him.

"Hey, Derek." The man just stared so Stiles took it a sign for him to continue. "We didn't get to finish, what we started. This morning I mean." Christ he was bad at this. He blushed. "You know what I mean! Quit staring!"

Derek didn't listen to him because he continued to stare. "I'll stop by," he said.

[]

Stiles' back arched off the bed, his eyes fluttering. His hands gripped at Derek's shoulders, where lines of sweat were trailing down his muscled back.

"Nnng, Derek," he moaned.

Derek gripped his hips tight, thrusting even harder into him. His voice was deep and guttural in his ear. His hands rough and calloused, roaming and exploring his skin as sharp teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his neck.

He was panting heavily so he had to clamp a hand over his mouth because he was close, so close, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep it down. Derek growled, moving to nestle his face in Stiles' neck. He was starting to move faster, and his poor bed and was creaking with each movement of his hips.

Stiles was coming close, and he felt his body tightening around Derek, who groaned loudly in response. Stiles screwed his eyes shut. With one particular thrust, Stiles came thickly between them, his teeth biting into Derek's shoulder to muffle any noise.

When he came down from his powerful orgasm he felt Derek move a few more times, sliding in and out of him before stilling, completely sheathed inside of him to empty into Stiles.

They were both too worn out to clean up afterwards, wrapping themselves in each other and falling into deep, dreamless sleep.

[]

Even though they were already awake, kissing each other slowly, lazily running hands over each other's naked chest, they - and by they, Stiles - jumped when his dad knocked loudly on the door. "Stiles! Get up."

"Dad! It's Saturday!" he yelled as Derek sucked at his neck. It was miracle to managed to get out a sentence without moaning. Christ, if he kept doing that he wouldn't be able to hold back the moans. "I don't have class today!"

"I know that, but I made breakfast!" he called. "For you  _and_ your boyfriend."

Derek stopped lapping at his neck at that. "What?" Stiles yelped.

"You two weren't exactly quiet last night, thanks for the nightmares by the way," his dad added, making Stiles burn red with embarrassment. "Now come downstairs so I can talk to the _both_  of you."

They didn't move until they heard him walking down the stairs. Stiles gulped, his face slowly turning back to his normal colour. He turned to face Derek, thankful he was still there. It was a miracle he didn't jump right out the window. It was something Stiles was considering. "I don't suppose you mind coming downstairs for a nice cup of coffee?"

Derek's face was still unreadable. "My dad makes good coffee," he said. "Plus I smell bacon. You look like you love bacon."

He hoped he did. He wasn't ready to face his dad alone. They never even had the talk. "Please come downstairs. No you know what. Screw it. You're coming downstairs. You don't scare me. And you can't boss me around and push me into a wall this time."

Derek crawled over him and pinned his arms down, growling down at him. Apparently he wanted to remind him that yes, he was still dangerous. Stiles gulped. "I'll key your car."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would. And you wouldn't kill the sheriff's kid, would you?"

Derek rolled off. "Fine, I'll eat breakfast."

Stiles smiled. "Come on, I think I have an extra tooth brush. My dad will go berserk if he finds out you didn't brush your teeth."


	2. Chapter 2

When he went down the stairs and into the kitchen he walked out behind Derek, gripping the back of his t-shirt, using him and his muscular back as a shield. He hoped his dad would take out his wrath on him first, possibly be too tired to yell at him afterwards and just let him be.

It was cowardly, hiding behind Derek, but Derek didn’t seem to mind all that much. At least, he didn’t seem any more grumpy than usual. He marched right into the kitchen like he was one of his dad’s cop buddies. Stiles supposed his confidence came from the fact that he would be able to heal from whatever Stiles’ dad might do to him.  

His dad was reading his paper, sitting at the kitchen table with his reading glasses perched on his nose. He looked up when he heard them walk in, staring at them from under his brows. Stiles gulped and gripped harder at Derek’s T-shirt, hoping that his dad hadn’t seen him yet. His dad looked a bit alarmed to see Derek. With a sigh, he set down his paper. “You?”

Derek stayed silent. He supposed Derek didn’t know what to say, not that he ever did say much besides snarky comments. His dad redirected his eyes to look straight at Stiles. “Sit down.”

Stiles stood there for a moment. He debated whether or not he should sit next to his dad or next to Derek. Derek could protect him, but then again his dad could get even more pissed if he sat next to Derek. He decided it was best to just sit next to his dad. He pushed Derek towards the table, and Derek let him, and sat down in the chair, giving space for Stiles to sit between them. Stiles sat down, grinning awkwardly at his dad. He cleared his throat, reaching towards the centre of the table, serving himself some pancakes. “Oh, pancakes! My favourite. You’re so thoughtful dad.”

His dad gave him a look. “Uh huh.”

Derek sat in silence, probably waiting for his dad to speak to him first, except his dad kept looking at him, not Derek. “Derek? You’ve been sleeping with Derek?” his dad asked him. “ _Derek Hale?”_

Stiles wanted to make a joke about how his das was talking about Derek as if he wasn’t there. Stiles smiled shyly. “Well, who did you think I was with?”

“Scott,” his dad said casually. “Or maybe that Danny kid, you brought him around a few times.”

“Scott?” Stiles asked, surprised. “No, not Scott,” he laughed nervously. “And I don’t even think Danny likes me, even in a platonic sort of way. In any way really.”

“What? He’s always coming around,” his dad said, then looked at Derek, who was busy glaring down at his plate. “Oh, and eat something. You’re creeping me out with the brooding.”

Stiles snickered, elbowing Derek. “See?”

Derek threw him a glare before reaching over, serving himself a huge pile of pancakes and pouring himself some coffee his dad had set out.

The clanking of silverware was filling the kitchen as Derek continued to eat half the pancakes on the plate. Not that either Stiles or his dad minded. They continued to bicker, Stiles said Derek was ok, his dad argued he still should have told him. The conversation started to die down when his dad’s attention went to Derek, who finished down his pancakes in record time, reaching out for seconds, piling an equally large amount like the first time. His dad turned in his chair to look at him. “Like them?”

Derek looked up, nodding. “They’re good,” he said simply.

His dad smiled, actually smiled. “I can tell.” Stiles then remembered how much of a sucker his dad was whenever someone complimented his cooking. Derek nodded again, making a move to devour more pancakes. “You have quite the appetite.”

Derek chewed, then nodded. “It’s not often I eat home cooked meals,” he said.

Oh he did not. Stiles sat there. He was using the guilt trip card. His dad turned to look at Stiles. “Why don’t you invite him for dinner before?” he looked at Derek. “I can make some more if you like.”

Stiles didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly he was villain at the table, depriving poor helpless Derek from food. As if he was the poster boy for starving children. With his muscles it looked like he ate a whole deer for breakfast. Not that he ever imagined Derek hunting down poor helpless animals….

Stiles spent the morning watching his dad cook more pancakes for Derek than his dad ever made for him _in a year_ , asking Derek if he wanted strawberry toppings and whipped cream. He wondered if this was the way his dad was going to get rid of the strawberries in the house….

 

[]

 

When Derek finished eating the breakfast the sheriff made him, Stiles left the room, by the request of his dad, and listened in to their conversation by the stairs. His dad was quite protective of him, Stiles already knew, but he smiled anyways when he heard his dad threaten to kill Derek if he hurt him. He even went as far as telling him he could hide his body so no one would find him. He also got his ass chewed out for sleeping with a minor but his dad made Derek promise to keep it on a ‘pretending not to know’ level.

After his dad nagged at Derek for having the balls to sneak in and sleep with the sheriff’s kid, Derek left, bidding goodbye to them both, and he actually walked out of the door. Stiles half expected him to jump out the window. Afterwards, Stiles had to wash all the dishes Derek and his dad left behind.

”You should have told me,” his dad said from the kitchen table, looking tired from the whole ordeal.

Stiles smiled slightly. “Probably, but I didn’t want to freak you out. You know, he’s an ex-con, and you didn’t believe me when I said I might be gay.”

“Stiles, you can’t blame me,” his dad said, fingers drumming on his forgotten newspaper. “Have you seen the way you dress?” he asked. “I mean, look at your shirt,” he said, eyes lowering to his plaid shirt, wrinkling his face in disapproval for extra measure.

“Can we drop it dad? I hear enough from Lydia.”

“Fine, I believe you now, but you still could have told me.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t know how you would handle it.”

“I solve murders for a living, finding out you’re dating someone I arrested isn’t the worst surprise. Plus, you’ve done worst.”

“Hey!”

His dad gave him a look from under his brow, then went back to reading his paper. Stiles supposed his dad reading the paper and focusing on that was better than him asking him questions that he didn’t want to answer.

 

[]

 

A week went by, and Derek still sneaked in, ignoring the sheriff’s demand that he use the front door. Still, Stiles always left the window open, knowing Derek would come by, and greeting him with a smile and kiss when he showed. They spent the nights together and Derek would leave in the morning before his father could walk in on them, tangled in the bed with sheets around them.

The week following, he showed up and knocked on the door once. Stiles’ dad had answered it, and made him dinner, where they talked about Stiles mostly. One of his childhood stories even got Derek to smile a little.

The third week Derek was stopping by everyday, and not just by his house, but picking him up after school or coming by to see Stiles practice. Jackson made a habit of teasing him about it, and Scott made a show of making a weird face and was definitely judging Stiles about picking Derek. He still supported him in his own way, but was just generally confused as to why Derek.

By the end of the month, Derek would stay after practice, or meet up on the field so he could play lacrosse with him. He swore he never used any of his wolf powers but Stiles still had his doubts because he was way too good at it.

Derek smirked when Stiles didn’t make the goal, Derek had blocked him with crazy speed, looking effortless. Stiles lifted his helmet, panting hard at narrowing his eyes. “I swear dude, I know you’re cheating. That was too fast for a human!”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think I’m that fast? I was on the lacrosse team when I was in high school you know.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh God, you were probably the Jackson of your day.”

He couldn’t say he didn’t see it coming when Derek tackled him to the ground, a tiny smirk on his face when he did. Stiles grunted when he made contact with the ground, the impact making him land none too gracefully. All at once all too aware that Derek was considerably heavier than he was, and he was pinning him to the grass.

“Get off,” Stiles said, even though he didn’t want him to. Derek grinned, biting down on his collarbone. “Ouch! What was that for?”

Derek furrowed his eyebrows. “You know what this is for.”

“Ok, fine! You’re such a great athlete, that’s the reason you have such a fantastic body. Your skills are truly amazing, it’s a wonder you’re not using your wolf powers, I was just admiring your-”

“Shut up Stiles.”

“Or what? You’re gonna rip my throat out?” he teased.

“Maybe,” Derek said, moving to nip at the pulse on his neck. Stiles dipped his head back, groaning. When Derek released his wrists, his fingers found its way into Derek’s black hair, tugging hard, knowing he couldn’t hurt him. Stiles sighed, his brown eyes staring at the sky as Derek nibbled gently, not enough to mark, just enough for Stiles to _feel_ his teeth.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles asked. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Why, did you never get an answer form Danny?”

Stiles froze. “Who told you?”

“Scott.” He lapped at his throat. “And you did when you got drunk.”

“That babbler mouth, I can’t trust him with anything,” he said. “Wait, I did?”

“Scott also told me you wanted to make out with him, ‘just to see what it feels like.’”

“You’re not angry?”

“You’re not fucking him, why would I care?” Derek said, biting down harder on his neck, his teeth sinking into his skin, making him gasp. “But don’t do that again.”

“You are so jealous!” Stiles said, grinning at him, breaking into a fit of giggles, ignoring the bite mark, playfully shoving at Derek’s shoulder.

“Shut up Stiles.”

“Ok,” Stiles faked seriousness for a brief moment. “Make me,” he purred.

Derek’s eyes took on a hungered look, and Stiles giggled when his scruffy chin scraped his skin, moaned when Derek bit down on his collarbone, this time enough to mark.

 

[]

 

Stiles had just finished with midterms, and he had been sleeping on his side in exhaustion, trying to sleep. He blinked his eyes and Derek was there, lying by his side, making no move to touch him. He relaxed after the initial shock, smiling softly.

Sometimes they would lay in silence, and Derek usually looked at his face, Stiles looked into his eyes, then at his body, snug in tight clothing. Derek stared then turned to lie on his back and he stared at the ceiling. Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, and he knew Derek could see him looking, but Derek didn’t point it out.

“I think you should meet my mom,” Stiles said. “I mean formally, you know.”

Derek looked at him, his eyes going a bit wide with surprise. He looked down and away, and he could see his jaw tightening, at a struggle for words.

Stiles smiled reassuringly. “She’ll like you, don’t worry.”

Derek looked like he was going to say no, but he nodded. If Derek didn’t look on the verge of bolting out the door, Stiles would have pointed out that Derek Hale looked scared. He couldn’t make fun of him because, while inviting Derek to go the cemetery with him was his idea, inside he was just as scared as Derek looked.

 

[]

 

Derek looked nervous when they headed towards her grave the next day. He took him by the hand, offering a weak smile and lead him there. Derek’s hand was cool and limp in Stiles’. He seemed to be in an inner battle of whether he should just bolt out of there. He didn’t bolt, he actually made it all the way to her grave in tense silence. Stiles had talked through it, anything to ease Derek’s anxiety. Derek cleared his throat when they reached her. Stiles squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Hey mom,” he said, finally letting go of Derek’s hand.

He could see Derek panic again, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself now that Stiles wasn’t keeping him grounded there. He saw his hands curl into tight fists before he shoved them into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“This is Derek, the one I told you about?” Stiles started.

He told her that they had been together for a little more than a month. Derek had said hello in an unsure voice, but Stiles had smiled anyway because he was trying. Derek stood in the silence for the rest of the time as Stiles filled in his mom and how well he was doing in lacrosse, and that he was doing well in his classes. When they left, Derek had said goodbye, and Stiles couldn’t read the expression on his face.

On the walk home, Stiles would occasionally bump shoulders with him, just so his hand could graze on Derek’s. He didn’t want to hold hands with him, knew Derek wouldn’t want to, but the sight touches were enough. He smiled and laughed when Derek raised an eyebrow, or got a little bit embarrassed by Stiles’ actions.

Stiles laughed and walked ahead of him, crunching leaves under his sneakers, feeling Derek’s eyes on his back as he strolled towards his house. They walked home in silence, Stiles stayed quiet, content with their silence. Once in a while he would turn back, knowing Derek was following, grinning when Derek gave him a look like he was preparing to say something snarky but bit the comment back whenever Stiles smiled at him.

Stiles turned back around, kicking leaves out of the way, knowing the feeling inside of him wasn’t just a phase. They arrived at his house before dark, and they went straight to his room. He closed the door after him, offering Derek a warm smile.

“Thanks for coming with me today.”

“No big deal,” Derek said, taking off his leather jacket, throwing it on Stiles’ chair.

Stiles smiled at him, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around him. “Really, thank you.”

Derek kissed him lightly, hands at Stiles’ back. Stiles kissed back, then broke it, licking Derek’s lower lip. “You were so cute, you actually looked scared a little. It’s not like she would have rose from the grave and threatened you.”

“Ghosts do exist though,” Derek said; face sombre.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, his eyes going wider. “Really?”

Derek smirked. “Yes, and so do vampires. And big foot.”

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Derek grinned down at him before ripping open his shirt, buttons scattering on Stiles’ bedroom floor. Stiles punched him for ruining his shirt, but when Derek lifted him off the ground, he wrapped his legs around his waist, his arms curling around his strong neck.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Derek said against his skin, kissing his temple.

Stiles smiled. “So are you.”

 

[]

  
 Stiles was on hands and knees, Derek thrusting hard into him. He bit his lip because he was getting pretty close, could feel it coming, could feel the sounds being held in, wanting so hard to let his voice out. He lifted himself higher on his arms, lifting and ducking his head to look at himself, leaking on his sheets.

He reached behind him, but Derek was quicker, wrapping his thick hand around his member, stroking him gently even if his hips were anything but. Stiles groaned, watching Derek’s hand work him masterfully, pushing back when Derek was going to thrust him. Derek moaned in appreciation, his hips starting to jerk without real rhythm. He was getting close too, he could tell.            

Stiles’ body tensed for a moment before his release came. He gripped his sheets, his coming hard, leaving his body boneless from ejaculation. Derek managed to pound into him a few times before he came too, his groan that Stiles was familiar with filling his room.

The afterglow was always nice. They lay on his bed, hip to hip, staring at his ceiling, breathing and panting, chests raising and falling with their breaths. Derek was always quiet. Stiles usually took a moment to catch his breath before he started talking, about anything. Never about how he felt about Derek, just about movies he had seen with Scott, sometimes he would talk about Lydia because he loved bugging Derek about it.

“I love you.”

Stiles almost bit his tongue, almost choked on air, almost had a panic attack. For some tense minutes, he laid there, completely frozen in shock at his own confession. When he got enough courage, he rolled over, watching Derek’s eyes, which had gotten a little wider than normal. Derek moved on his side, turning to look at Stiles in the eyes. “Stiles, you don’t love me.”

That came like a slap to his face. He sat up, confusion and rejection hitting him like a splash of cold water. “What do you mean I don’t love you?” he asked.

Derek’s expression almost turned angry, and Stiles didn’t know why. “Stiles, you’re seventeen. You don’t know what love is.”

“I can figure it out myself, and I’m not a child,” he argued, sitting up straighter, body rigid with anger. His rage was building up, and he considered punching Derek, even if he knew form experience it hurt him more than it hurt Derek. He just wanted to do something.

“Stiles, you think you’re in love, but you’re not.”

“Fuck you Derek,” he gritted out. “Don’t tell me that, don’t you dare treat me like I’m an idiot that can’t figure out his own feelings.”

“You only think you know what love is. The truth is, you don’t.”

“And you know what love is? “Stiles asked, looking into his eyes bitterly, biting his lower lip to try to keep his emotions at bay. “You can’t even figure out your own feelings, you’re too much of a coward to even show the slightest bit of _real_ emotion, that’s why I don’t push you. Don’t tell me I don’t know what love is, because I do, I know what it is better than you do.”

He hated himself for sounding vulnerable; he hated Derek for making him feel that way.

“No, you’re not.” Derek said, getting up, making a grab for his clothes.

Stiles sat completely still, watching him dress. “What are you doing?” he tossed the covers to the side, standing up on shaking legs. “Where are you going Derek?”

Derek finished dressing without a word. After he pulled on his jacket he looked at Stiles. “Don’t wait up.”

 

[]

 

After that night, Stiles didn’t see Derek for two days. He hated the bastard. He hated him so much. He hoped he got his werewolf ass run over. Or shot down by a hunter, he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all.

But he also missed him terribly.

He didn’t talk to anyone about it.

Scott had noticed something was off and tried asking about it but Stiles smiled, said he was ok, and moved on. Because that’s what he did when he lost someone.

 

[]

 

Stiles sat on his bed. He hadn’t seen Derek in four days. He had no idea where he was. He was used to be alone. At least, he told people he was fine being alone but he hated it. He hated being alone, not being able to see Derek.

During class he imagined Derek showing up and was always disappointed when je didn’t. He would go home and sit alone in his quiet house. He did his homework with the TV on, just because he needed some noise in the house, couldn’t stand the lack of grunts he had been used to, or the way Derek would sometimes hum a song when he thought Stiles wasn’t paying attention.

He tired not to think of how alone he felt, more alone than when his mom died. When his mom was in the hospital, he saw it coming. He had hope, hope she would pull through at the last minute, but he also knew there was a big chance she wouldn’t. He had felt so alone then. Miserable, watching his mom pass away.

And he felt guilt, guilt because he felt bad for his dad. His dad was great, but it wasn’t the same. His dad had lost the love of his life. He felt guilty because his dad was living with so much pain over losing his wife. He loved her and had taken it worst than Stiles. It was worst because sometimes when his dad didn’t think he could hear, he took a shower and Stiles could hear him sobbing.

Then those mornings he would find him sleeping in the kitchen table, hand still curled around a bottle of Jack Daniels.

But this time, with Derek, the lost was different. He didn’t expect Derek to smile and say that he loved Stiles back, he just didn’t expect him to leave either without so much as a goodbye or an actual line of rejection. The thing that bothered him the most was that even though he was pissed at Derek, he also felt guilty this time. He said it too soon, much too soon and he had pushed him away. Just when he found someone, even someone was unexpected as Derek, he pushed them away.

Stiles hated that people he loved were taken away from him, and it was his fault. His hands curled into tight fists, bunching his sheets because it was too much all of a sudden. He screwed his eyes shut, and for the first time since he’d been with Derek, he cried.

 

[]

 

“Son,” his dad said, looking at him as he made breakfast for the two of them. He stared at Stiles’ face, and he knew he was searching for something. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles shrugged, flipping a pancake. The same kind his dad made when he first met Derek. The night after they first had sex. “I’m fine.”

His dad sighed. “Don’t lie to me son.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I mean, Derek’s a jerk, but I’m perfectly fine.”

His dad noticed the tears running down his face. He pulled him into a hug before Stiles could protest. They hugged for a long time, embracing one another in the middle of the kitchen. They hugged, even though they smelled the pancake burning, then eventually pulled apart and made a new batch of pancakes, this time watching it carefully so it wouldn’t burn.

They ate in silence, but a question was on Stiles’ tongue, and he needed to ask. “Dad, how did you,” he paused. “When did you know you were in love with mom?”

“What?”

“It’s just a question. You know, I just never asked mom. I thought I should ask you.”

His dad smiled. “You just know.”

Stiles sat in silence, thinking it over. _Had he mistaken that feeling?_

“He’ll come back,” his dad said simply.

They left it at that.

 

[]

 

He sat by his mom’s grave. After the conversation with his dad he went to go visit her, sitting by her tombstone, his finger making patterns on the dirt around him. He frowned, not being able to think of how to start. Stiles opened his mouth and soon he was talking endlessly, telling her mother exactly what had happened. He told her everything, from telling Derek he loved him to Derek walking out, and he wasn’t even sure he was coming back. He explained he knew there was a simple solution, but he sighed. “I don’t think I can do it,” he said.

His finger dug deeper into the dirt until his fingernail hurt, dirt clumping under the nail as he continued to draw Derek’s tattoo on the ground. “I can’t call him or anything. And I don’t want to, I can’t do it.” He bit back the bitterness in his tone. “He won’t listen to me anyways, he’s a stubborn jackass.”

Ever since Derek left, Stiles couldn’t help but think of the way he frowned and always restrained himself from laughing at his jokes. The way he grit his teeth in his sleep. He hated the way Derek refused to talk about himself. He hated the way Derek seemed to think he wasn’t good enough for Stiles and pushed Stiles away.

“You and dad, you’re different,” he went on. “Dad wasn’t a maniac when he was in his twenties. I’ve seen the pictures, total nerd.” He went on. “And I’m sure dad didn’t threaten you either, or you him. I mean, what was I thinking?”

“Nope. I’m not apologizing because he overreacted.”

Stiles thought of Derek, of the way he looked when he put on Stiles shirt that were always too small on him. The way he frowned, the way he ate way too fast and too much. He loved the way he was competitive with him, and had to beat him at lacrosse. He loved the way Derek treated his dad, and he loved Derek when he watched T.V., scowling and sighing dramatically when he didn’t like someone.

Their relationship wasn’t anything like the relationship his parents had, but he wanted it more than he could explain to his mother.

 

[]

 

Stiles found Derek in his room when he came back home. Derek was sitting on his bed, hands covered face as he rubbed tiredly over his eyes, sighing. He didn’t move at all when Stiles stepped in, though Stiles was sure he must have heard him enter.

“Derek?” Stiles asked; blinking several times just to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“I’m sorry.”

Derek said it without looking up. Stiles shifted from one foot to another, trying to digest his words. “Are you breaking up with me or something?”

Derek’s head snapped up then. The look in his eyes told Stiles that wasn’t what he meant at all. “No.”

Stiles’ mouth was hanging open, he knew. He closed it quickly. “Oh. Yeah, well, you had me worried and freaking out if you would ever talk to me again. You leave, I don’t see you for four days, and you come back and say you’re sorry?” he felt his shoulders shaking, anger fuelling his words. “You think that just makes everything ok?”

Derek’s eyes flickered with regret. “I am sorry.

“Why did you leave?”

Derek reached out, taking hold of Stiles’ wrist, tenderly -a touch Stiles had missed, almost forgotten how gentle Derek could be - bringing him down to sit next to him on the bed. Stiles sat down begrudgingly, sighing. Derek let go of his wrist and sighed himself. “I never told you about Kate.”

Stile raised an eyebrow. “No, you haven’t,” he paused. “Wait, Kate Argent?” Derek nodded. It took a moment for Stiles to figure out what he meant. “You were with Kate Argent?”

“It was when I was in high school. I was young, around your age,” he said.

“Oh,” Stiles said, knowing fully well what he meant by that.

“She already knew about my family, but I was a teenager and in love,” he said, laughing bitterly. He had said in love so sarcastically it physically hurt just to hear him. “Because of me, my family died in that fire. I shouldn’t have trusted her. I should have known better, but I let myself get blinded by, feelings.”

Stiles sat quietly. Derek cleared his throat. There was pain in his voice when he spoke. “It was a mistake, being with her, but I was young, and,” he paused. “I thought I loved her.”

Stiles placed a hand on his thigh. “You’re mad, that she hurt you?”

“Of course I’m mad Stiles. Maybe if, I wasn’t with her, my family would still be alive today.”

“Derek, it’s not your fault. She hurt you, but you can’t blame yourself, you didn’t know better.” He gripped his thigh harder. “The fire wasn’t your fault, none it was, there was nothing you could have done.”

“But I should have done something.”

Stiles cupped his face, forcing Derek to look at him. “You were sixteen! What could you have done? Shit. Yeah, I’m pissed that because of her I can’t even say love because you freak the fuck out, but when I said I love you, I meant it. Nothing changed. I’m still angry, but I love you. I really do, and not in a blinded sixteen year old kind of way.”

Derek’s face fell.

“And if you’re worried about something bad happening, it’s not going to happen. You saved me from Peter, and you protect me, and I saved your ass from drowning. We’re there for each other. Hell, Jackson managed to not kill us, I think we’ll be ok.”

“But-”

“And you’re not going to hurt me like Kate did to you Derek. You won’t.”

Derek’s eyes were flickering, intense emotion in there. Stiles held that look, looking back at him without breaking eye contact. Derek nodded slowly, his body relaxing, eyebrows moving back to the correction position over his eyes. Stiles pulled him close, Derek’s face burying in his neck. Derek’s heavy breathing was tickling the skin of his neck, but he held him close.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Well, I hope you won’t hurt me. Unless you’re not kidding when you threaten to kill-”

“No,” Derek said against his skin. “I mean about what you said before.”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. He nodded, brushing his fingers through Derek’s black hair. “Yeah, I do love you.”

Derek looked at him, then he moved in, kissing him gently. His hands went under Stiles’ shirt. He shivered when he reached his nipples, rubbing his thumbs over the small buds. Stiles moaned into Derek’s full lips.

Derek broke it and nuzzled into his neck. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You do?” he asked, a little too quickly in his opinion.

Derek nodded, placing a kiss on his jaw. “Yes,” he murmured. “I trust you.”

And those weren’t the exact words Stiles had been waiting for, but getting trust from Derek Hale was close enough. Stiles knew he would kill the mood, but he grinned madly, ignoring the way Derek was glaring and telling him to stop.

 

[]

 

He sat back, watching himself disappear into him, rocking his hips, watching Derek’s face for any sign of discomfort. Derek’s fingers dug into his arms painfully, and he was sure there would be bruises in the morning, but it only encouraged Stiles to move faster. Stiles dug his nails into Derek’s hips, who seemed to encourage it by arching his back, hissing under his breath.

It was _fucking awesome_.

Stiles licked his lips, feeling Derek shudder underneath him. Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek, pumping him until Derek threw his head back, coming on his toned stomach. The sight made Stiles come soon after. He managed to thrust in between his thighs a few more times before he emptied deep into him, stilling and falling on Derek’s chest, not caring if they were a mess. 

Silence took over the sounds of the room, it no longer being filled by their moans and grunts. Only their laboured breathing was heard. When their breathing settled back to normal, Derek took to staring at the ceiling again, hand resting on his chest, eyes sharp and alert. Stiles rustled on the sheets next to him, stealing glances at Derek, eyes roaming over the expanse of his body. He swallowed and turned his head to look at the ceiling as well.

“You know, Danny keeps asking about you. I think he really likes you. He got all excited when I told him that you were coming to our lacrosse game-”

“I love you.”

Stiles sat up on his elbows, looking down at Derek. He looked nervous, which Stiles normally would have laughed at, but he stared at him instead, looking into his eyes. “You what?” he asked, trying to make sure he heard right.

“You heard me,” Derek said, frowning. “I’m not repeating it.”

Stiles felt something tugging at his chest, felt his face get warm. He leaned down, locking them in a slow and lazy kiss. He kissed Derek until he relaxed under him.

“I love you too grumpy.”

 

[]

 

When he woke, Derek had an arm around his middle, snoring in his ear. Stiles shifted in his sleep, waking Derek. He groaned in his ear, nuzzling his face into his neck, making Stiles laugh and squirm because his chin was prickly with facial hair.

“Stop, I’m ticklish.”

“Shut up, you woke me up me.”

Stiles scrunched his shoulders, trying to block Derek from tickling him with his beard. Derek grunted behind him when Stiles tried to wiggle his way out of his hold but Derek held onto him. He threw back his elbow, and Derek did let him go. He sat up in bed, frowning down at him. “You’re awful.”

Derek grabbed his wrist, yanking him back down on the mattress. “Stop moving so much.”

Stiles huffed, lying still, settling by Derek’s side. They both stayed quiet, feeling the sun from outside warm their naked bodies, only partially covered by Stiles’ thin sheets. “What are we doing?”

“Enjoying each other’s company,” Derek said.  “ _Silent_ company,” he added.

Stiles frowned, but lay silent for as much time as he could. Derek looked like he was about to fall asleep on him. “Hey, you’re not falling back to sleep on me.”

“Shut up,” Derek said.

Stiles crawled over him, straddling Derek’s hips. “Sorry, I don’t do well with silence,” Stiles said with a smirk, grounding down on him.

Derek grinned, his hands running over Stiles’ thighs. “That’s what I love about you.”

Stiles never felt happier in his life.

 

[]

 

His dad had insisted they invite Derek over for dinner, even if Stiles complained that he was still embarrassed to bring him over, considering how much they liked to gang up on him and tease him the entire time they were together. His dad offered Derek a beer, who accepted, both drinking and talking about the times Derek had been arrested as if it were a normal thing to talk about. Stiles bit his fingernails because it was still awkward for him to see Derek of all people get along with his dad. He supposed Derek missed talking to a fatherly figure and his dad just liked talking to someone less hyper.

After dinner they washed the dishes then watched a movie on the couch together. It almost reminded Stiles of the times when his mom was alive and they would watch movies together. Him and his mom used to love watching horror movies. His dad never understood why they watched if they were so scared.

When she died used to imagine a time when someone would join them in watching, or pretend his mom was there. But he didn’t have to pretend anymore. He was sitting between his dad and Derek, and his fingers reached out, touching Derek’s hands. Derek’s fingers curled around his, and he could feel his dad’s eyes on him but didn’t say anything.

He leaned back, stinking into the couch, not caring if his dad was staring. He imagined if his mom had been there, she would have told his dad not to stare and leave them be. Even if his mom wasn’t there, he liked to think she would have liked Derek. 


End file.
